


Rebecca Better Know

by QWERTYouAndMe



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Adam has an awkward crush on Matty, Basically, Cheating, Despite never being with a guy before, Gay Awakening, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, and then they fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27902116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QWERTYouAndMe/pseuds/QWERTYouAndMe
Summary: In which Adam cheats on his girlfriend, and loses his virginity to a man.
Relationships: Adam Hann/Matthew Healy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Rebecca Better Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shinelikemillions91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinelikemillions91/gifts).



> [follow me on tumblr for stuff like this but filthier xx](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/daffodil75)

It’s not to say that Adam has never thought about guys before.

He’s looked at guys in this way before. He’s had his fair share of wanks to things that aren’t just girls with big tits wiggling their arses for faceless cock. But all guys are like this, right? Everyone thinks about men sometimes; male celebrities or the guys in porn. Everyone wanks to things they’d never tell their mates. 

Not everyone pops a boner watching their mate sing, though. Watching their mate do anything, for that matter. It’s probably not normal, Adam could bet on that one. On the list of things that aren’t very straight-guy-best-mate things to do, this is probably very near the top. 

Matty is pretty. He’s undeniably pretty. He’s an objectively attractive person. Adam can appreciate this, he’s always been able to, but he’s never so much as considered Matty in this way until right now. They're just practising, and Adam's watching Matty as he gets really into singing  _ Sex _ , and something about the way his hair bounces and he moves his body does something to Adam that he can’t explain, and he's inexplicably hard behind his guitar for the rest of rehearsal.

It's definitely Matty. He tries to think about his girlfriend, so at least he’s not hard over his best mate, but it does nothing. If anything, it makes his erection flag a little, which is concerning, but something he’ll unpack at a later date. His thoughts and his eyes keep drifting back to Matty. Matty's body moving under his oversized vest, Matty's hands, his fingers, straying up and down the neck of his guitar, and Adam can’t explain it. At the end of their session, he doesn’t waste a second with polite chit-chat, just makes up some excuse about missing a phone call, then locks himself in the bathroom. 

It’s Matty’s bathroom — they’re at Matty’s house — and he’s hard because of Matty, and he thinks it would probably be wrong to get off right now, but he’s got no other choice. Either, he makes himself cum, and he moves on, waits till he’s in bed tonight to think about all this and what it means, or he just waits for his cock to decide it’s had enough and for him to stop being so obviously hard, but he knows that could take a while, and he doesn’t want his bandmates thinking there’s something actually wrong with him. 

It’s just one wank, he decides. It’s just a quick wank, and then he can wash his hands of it — literally and figuratively — and step back out and pretend this never happened. The thinking and the worrying can come later, if he just comes right now. Reluctant as he is, he spits into his palm, closes his eyes, and takes his cock in hand. 

He wastes no time in stroking himself quickly. He tries to think about the kind of things he usually thinks about when he gets off; his girlfriend, the way she sounds during sex, the way she looks when she’s on top, bouncing herself on his dick, her tits in his face, her hair flipped over her shoulder. But it just doesn’t do it for him. Try as he might, his thoughts always come back to Matty. Matty playing the guitar, Matty throwing himself over the mic. Matty doing things he absolutely does not do when they’re rehearsing. He thinks about the way Matty looks when he wears his shirts open and his jeans low, the trail of hair leading from his navel, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. That does it for him more than anything else he’s thought about the whole time, and while it shames him to think so, he’s got to get this over with before someone gets suspicious.

Helpfully, Matty is knocking on the door. 

“You alright, mate?” he says, voice a little muffled from the other side of the wood, and it surprises Adam so much that he doesn’t have time to stop himself when his orgasm rushes through him and he spills all over his fingers. He’s frozen in shock, sat there with his pulsing cock in his hand, and Matty on the other side of the door, unknowingly having just made him come. 

“Adam?” Matty’s voice comes again, and Adam realises very fast that he’s really got to think of a good cover story. 

“Just give me a second,” he murmurs — objectively, a terrible move, extremely incriminating, especially paired with the panic in his voice — and Matty hums from behind the door. He tucks his cock back into his boxers and washes the cum off his hands, looks himself over in the mirror and convinces himself he looks normal, and not like he’s just had a wank in his best mate’s bathroom. 

When he opens the door to Matty, though, he flushes bright red again. Matty is smiling at him like he knows, and Adam can’t deal with that thought right now, so he mumbles some bullshit excuse, thanks Matty for the rehearsal time, and rushes out of the flat without so much as a goodbye to George and Ross. 

He spends the rest of that night running the thoughts over in his mind again. His girlfriend. All the pretty girls he knows. Every pair of tits he’s ever seen in his life. The only thing that continues to do it for him is the visual of Matty’s fucking happy trail.

*

He fakes sick for their next rehearsal. He knows he can’t avoid Matty forever, but he thinks that if he maybe just wanks it all out of his system, maybe he’ll be okay. It’s just a crush, he keeps telling himself, he’ll be over it in a week. He’d better be, anyway, because he can’t keep pretending to have a cold for every single rehearsal, namely because it doesn’t even fucking work, because Matty has just shown up at his flat with soup. 

“Let me in,” he keeps saying from behind the door, sounding more and more annoyed with every time he has to repeat himself. 

Adam tries his best to sound nasally and miserable, but he’s struggling massively, and he’s fucking blessed to be home alone because if anybody else was here, he’d be in deep, deep shit after having to explain the situation to them. 

“I’m contagious,” he says, but it’s pretty clearly bullshit. Matty sighs, pauses, and then tries the door handle. 

Like a fool, Adam lets him open it, backs away. His face is burning red for more than just one reason as Matty storms into his home and slams the tupperware down on the kitchen counter. Meekly, Adam goes to shut the door. 

“Why did you lie?” Matty snaps, folding his arms and leaning back against Adam’s counter. He’s wearing a leather jacket and jeans that are just a little bit too torn to be acceptable anymore. He looks really good. 

“What do you— I wasn’t—”

“I’m not stupid, Adam,” Matty cuts him off. He doesn’t look angry. Adam still hates it. “You’re not sick. Are you avoiding me?”

A shudder runs through Adam’s whole body then, because yes, technically, he is, but it’s not just about Matty. He’s avoiding his own feelings, trying to escape the way he reacted to Matty last week, and the way his body is threatening to react now. Mercilessly, his cock is stirring in his joggers, and he begs it to calm down, but has a feeling it will be no use. 

When he doesn’t answer, Matty pushes himself off the kitchen counter fluidly and sighs, before turning back around to take the kettle off its stand and fill it front the sink. 

“I’m making a cup of tea,” he says, and it’s probably an invitation, but Adam doesn’t say anything. His cheeks are burning red, and he’s so embarrassed, so ashamed, that he wishes the ground would open up right now and swallow him whole. He watches Matty take two mugs out of the cupboard. 

As the water is boiling, Matty doesn’t turn to face him, just looks at the counter, slides the tub of soup between his hands. 

“This is my mum’s,” he says quietly, almost inaudible over the bubble of the kettle. “I had it frozen. I thought it would make you feel better.”

Adam remains silent as he pours hot water into both of the mugs, only offers a smile as thanks when Matty passes him his, black. There are no more words for a while. Matty goes into his fridge and takes out his milk. He puts the soup in there too. When he goes to the living room, Adam follows, and for some stupid reason, sits beside Matty on the sofa, clutching his mug. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, Adam,” Matty says into his tea. He sounds hurt. Like always, Adam stays silent. “I know. About what happened, I mean. Last week. You know what I’m talking about.”

More silence. Adam sips his tea. 

“Was it… me?” Matty continues. Adam looks up at him, cheeks burning red, and sees that he’s smiling a little bit, probably internally stroking his own ego. Adam is convinced Matty plans to make the whole world fall in love with him. Then he can have total world domination, or something. 

After those brief moments of eye contact, Matty knows all he needs to. He sets his cup on the table, and takes Adam’s from his hands and sets that down too. Now, with nothing to hold or look at, Adam feels lost. 

“We’re friends, Adam,” Matty says, which feels ironic, given the circumstances. “You… I… Fuck, I don’t know.”

They fall into silence again. It’s somehow even worse when Matty doesn’t know what to say, because Matty always knows what to say. It’s like a bird is trapped in Adam’s chest, getting more and more worked up with every passing second, fluttering in his ribcage, desperate to escape, and the only way for it to get out is for him to open his mouth and say, “I think I fancy you.”

A wide grin spreads on Matty’s face when the words leave Adam’s mouth. It’s so unlike him, so uncharacteristic, but Matty can tell how much of a moment of desperation it was. He can see on Adam’s face that he wasn’t expecting the words to come out, either. He can tell he’s got to be the cool one here, so despite his thudding heartbeat and the way his head is spinning, he takes a breath to right himself, and acts calm and unwavering. 

“Yeah?” he teases a little, and Adam smiles, despite himself. Matty’s grin widens. “Can… I kiss you, then?”

Adam’s smile shows teeth, then, and his cheeks flush the brightest pink that Matty has ever seen. He nods minutely, and looks up enough for Matty to cup his cheek with one hand and lean in halfway to fill the space between them. Adam makes up the rest of the distance, and then they’re kissing, mouths moving against each other in that kind of awkward, clunky way that kisses go when you haven’t been kissed in a while. 

Matty smells like a man. He tastes of tea, and faintly of a cigarette, but Adam doesn’t mind. His face is slightly scratchy with stubble, and his hands, when they find Adam’s, are rough from years of playing instruments. It’s absolutely nothing like kissing a girl, absolutely nothing like Adam has ever experienced before, and his head is spinning from it.

It’s also absolutely, absolutely nothing like Adam had imagined it to be. It’s worlds away, a million times better. 

Somehow, this doesn’t bother him one bit. 


End file.
